


Change is Gonna Do Me Good

by Mackaley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Domestic, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Finger Sucking, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hair Braiding, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, M/M, Makeup, Mirror Sex, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 03:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20382688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackaley/pseuds/Mackaley
Summary: “What do you get out of this?”Aziraphale turned his head and looked confused. “Get out of what? I'm sorry, I don't know what you're asking.”“This.” He sat up and smoothed his skirt down his legs and gestured to his hair, his blouse, now hanging loosely off his shoulders. “The clothes and the heels and the makeup. I guess it's just been so long since I felt and dressed like this, Nanny notwithstanding, and I was worried, clearly stupidly, that you would want me less. I think I was just curious what you get out of it."





	Change is Gonna Do Me Good

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this piece of fanart](https://twitter.com/gingerhaole/status/1159164565399076865?s=21) on Twitter and then spent two weeks writing a fic, so that's how it goes sometimes I guess. 
> 
> In this fic, Crowley transitions to presenting more femininely and Aziraphale supports him enthusiastically. Crowley continues to use he/him pronouns throughout the fic and the sex scenes are equally split between him having a penis and him having a vagina. Just wanted to give a heads up because I know this fandom in particular has preferences and that's legit. 
> 
> This is the first fic I've ever written despite having consumed it voraciously since I was 11, which is why I'm posting it on my secret side AO3 account lmao. 
> 
> Title is from Elton John's "Honky Cat" because if there's one thing I do now besides think about Good Omens, it's listen to Elton John.

Aziraphale was delighted to receive a call from Anathema shortly after the anniversary of Armageddon. He answered the phone, bracing himself, but was instead greeted with a melodious American voice. 

“Hello, Anathema! It’s so good to hear from you. Are you well?”

“I am, thank you, Aziraphale. Listen, I need a favor.” 

“Of course, my dear. How can I be of service?”

Anathema detailed how she planned on coming into London the following week to visit a few specialty occult shops (“Tadfield is lovely, but I can’t even buy oregano for dinner without neighborhood watch sniffing around.”) and that she needed a guide around London.

“I’m sure I can manage myself, but--”

“Of course! I’d love to spend the day with you and help you navigate London. It can be a bit difficult if you don’t know what you’re doing. Crowley’s made sure of that throughout the years.”

“Wonderful. Let’s say next Tuesday?”

“Splendid. Oh, there’s this new Vietnamese restaurant I’ve been meaning to try and--”

Aziraphale picked Anathema up at the station at 9:30 a.m. and they spent the morning shopping, Anathema telling wild tales of some of the Them’s more out there adventures in the past year. They finally stopped by the Vietnamese restaurant, Anathema’s arms laden with bags and packages, and sat down to their lunch.

“And Newt, how is he doing?”

Anathema sighed with a look that Aziraphale could only describe as exasperated fondness. He wondered how many times he’d looked at Crowley with the same expression.

“He’s great. He’s really great. I’ve never met someone who was so eager and yet such an utter disaster sometimes. But he’s sweet and caring and so funny when he’s not trying. When he is trying, he’s hopeless.” Aziraphale chuckled. 

“But yes, we’re happy. It’s so strange - he isn’t at all like the person I’d imagined dating or even settling down with.” Anathema’s lips quirked. “Although I don’t need to explain that to you. How is Crowley doing?”

Aziraphale tried to suppress the smile that burst onto his face to no avail. 

“Oh, Anathema, I've never seen him so happy. He still scowls and stalks next to me like a menace, but it’s all for show. We’ve known each other for so long and it’s like an enormous weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. I suppose we both feel that way.” Anathema smiled at him and squeezed his hand across the table. He quickly squeezed back.

“It took me so long not just to acknowledge my feelings towards him but to also feel safe in expressing them. I loved him for so long but no matter how much I wanted us to be together, it was too dangerous. But then the end of the world was averted and there was no reason for us to not do it properly. 6024 years on Earth and the past year - oh Anathema, we just celebrated our anniversary. What a wonderful, silly human thing given our relationship - the past year has been the happiest of them all.” 

Aziraphale felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. Whenever he thought too long about how much joy he and Crowley had shared since last summer, he started to cry. It was as if his corporeal form could not contain the cosmic totality of what they were and it leaked out of him, fussy and happy and _full_.

Anathema gave him another genuine smile. “I’m happy things worked out for the two of you. I suppose after so long, it reached the point of inevitability.”

Aziraphale smiled again and then ducked his head before looking back up. “Can I actually ask your advice on something?” She nodded and leaned in closer. 

He exhaled a shaky breath. “Well, as you know, we are an angel and a demon. And typically we are sexless--well,” he said, a devilish smirk on his face, “_We_ aren’t _sexless_ but we don’t prescribe to gender roles or norms or have an innate connection to it the way most humans do. I’ve always presented as a male and I’ve been quite happy to do so. It suits me. Crowley’s always been more fluid about that sort of thing. There’s been several times throughout our history where I’ve met him as a woman or as a man or something neither or in between.

“This isn’t an issue, obviously. I have no preference so long as it’s _Crowley_ but I feel like he’s been wanting to present more femininely lately but he’s afraid to rock the boat of what we’ve developed over the past year.”

He recalled the night of their anniversary when Crowley had strolled into the shop, his hair settling in waves just above his shoulders. He hadn’t been sporting the hair style earlier that day.

Aziraphale had complimented him and inquired about the longer locks as he played with a stray tendril.

“Just time for a change, angel,” Crowley replied before kissing him soundly. Later that night, Aziraphale had wound his fingers through Crowley’s hair, savoring the length and holding his head still while he fucked into his mouth. A couple of days later he noticed Crowley was wearing nail polish and faint gloss on his lips. Aziraphale hadn’t commented.

Aziraphale shook his head and focused on Anathema again. “I’m going to talk to him soon. I just know that even though he believes that I love him and we’re never going back to how we were before, he gets anxious about his place with me, about his own self-worth. I do as much as I can to make up everything I’ve done to him, but I also know that he appreciates gestures and tokens of affection as much as the words. I’m just at a loss about what I should do for him.”

Anathema made a low noise in her throat. “That’s a lot to spring on a woman, Aziraphale.” Her lips quirked. “Have you thought about buying him clothes? A dress, perhaps. I can’t think of something that would be more of an endorsement than that.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips in thought. He imagined himself walking into a shop, surrounded by flashes and folds of colorful fabrics, running his fingers over the textures, examining each item carefully and picturing whether Crowley would like to wear it. He imagined Crowley later wearing the dress Aziraphale selected, a secret sign of Crowley being his, and running his hands up Crowley’s thighs, giving him unhindered access to feel how hard or wet he was…

Aziraphale shivered and then nodded. “I think that’s just the ticket, Anathema.”

They finished their meals and began to walk back to the train station. A few blocks away, Anathema held her arm out to stop Aziraphale and he looked at her quizzically. They were standing in front of a small boutique with several dresses in the window. She turned to the angel and grinned. “I’ve been meaning to get some new clothes. Want to go in?”

Aziraphale swallowed nervously and then nodded. She pushed open the door, bell tinkling overhead, and ushered him inside. His heart beat quicker, suddenly overwhelmed with the options the store boasted as well as the daunting task that lay ahead of him. How do you find the perfect dress that shouts “My dearest, you know I’ll love you for the rest of our lives and I want you to trust me with whomever your authentic self is. Also, I’d like to lift this skirt up and ravish you as quick as you please, there’s a dear.” 

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and focused. He started at the perimeter of the store, lifting each article in his hand and feeling the different textures underneath his fingers. He had always been more tactile than most people seemed to be and he had wondered if it was some way that his angelic presence dealt with being stuffed into a mortal body or if it was just a bonus of this corporeal form. He noticed every single thing he touched, whether it was the dry, rough ridges of an old leather bound book or the cool, smooth metal of a fork pressing into his fingers as he ate. It's one of the reasons he was so fastidious about keeping his hands and nails clean and neatly trimmed - any feeling of dirt or debris _lingered_ which drove him to a point of madness. 

Here though, in this shop, his sensitive nerves delighted over everything. His palms lingered on soft, plush velvet. He crinkled crepe in his fingers and ran his knuckles over a wool skirt. 

He realized he was wandering very near to the lingerie section of the shop and oh, wasn’t _that_ a thought. Flashes of Crowley in dark stockings that accentuated his long legs, his arse flaunted in a thong, a leather bustier adorning his chest… He immediately pushed it out of his head to deal with at a later time. He didn’t want it to look like he was a lecher by lingering too long.

He decided he wanted something that would smooth under his touch as he ran his fingers down Crowley’s side. He brushed down his own ribs and sighed wistfully, remembering when it was the fashion for men to wear more sensual fabrics than they were now. He almost wished he were shopping for himself before his eyes landed on a dress across the shop.

He walked towards it slowly, hand outstretched and oh _yes_ this was the one. His hand glided down the smooth dark burgundy satin which shone under the shop’s sharp lighting. His fingernail caught on the black lace embellishments around the waist and the collar. The collar was wide and Aziraphale thought about pressing his fingertips to Crowley’s bare, freckled collarbones, dipping sensuously below the collar. He plucked the dress from the rack, held it out, and determined that it should hit right above Crowley’s knees, long as his legs were. He turned it around and almost groaned. The back dipped low in a perfect V and oh, he would mouth his way down Crowley’s spine and then move the sleeves aside to kiss his shoulders. Or wrap his arms around Crowley’s thin waist under the dress, lift a hand to tug at his nipple… Yes, this one would do.

“Anathema? I’m ready to checkout when you’re done.”

They completed their purchases and he bid Anathema farewell at the station, promising that he and Crowley would visit Tadfield soon. 

He turned to walk back home, clutching the black and gold gift wrapped box tightly to his chest.

\----------

Aziraphale didn’t think he’d ever been more nervous in his life, which was _ridiculous_ given how nervous of a being he could be and also the events of his unusual-by-any-standards life. He flitted around the bookshop rearranging the same pile of books over and over in between bringing Crowley cups of tea. He placed a third mug down on the coffee table, the first still half-full and the second on its way to cooling, when Crowley sat up on the couch.

“Angel, if you bring me one more cup of tea, I’m going to upend it on the books.”

Aziraphale gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Crowley’s lip twitched. “No, I wouldn’t.” He knitted his eyebrows together in concern. “Are you okay? You haven’t sat down since we’ve gotten back and your pacing is going to single-handedly wear down the rugs. Lord knows the customers won’t be doing it.”

Aziraphale sighed and sat next to Crowley. Crowley immediately lifted his arm so the angel could sidle up next to him and he pulled Aziraphale close, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “What’s wrong, angel?”

Aziraphale pulled back to look Crowley in the eye and took his hand, rubbing small circles over his thumb. “Well. As you know, I spent the day shopping with Anathema. And, well.” _Why_ was he so nervous about this. “I got you a present,” he said finally.

Crowley laughed. “You’re this worked up about giving me a present? Oh god, is it from one of those occult shops you went to? I’m pretty sure those count as joke gifts to demons.” 

Aziraphale glared at him. “No, it wasn’t from an occult shop. It’s. Well, best to just show you.” He stood up and fetched the box from where he had kept it safely under the bed upstairs. He walked down the stairs and saw Crowley leaning forward, chin resting on his hand and leg bouncing nervously. Aziraphale’s heart clenched. He hated making Crowley more anxious than he already was.

Crowley looked up at him as soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs and smiled, sitting up and reaching his hands out to take the box from Aziraphale. He handed it over, but placed his hand briefly on top of the box before Crowley could open it. Crowley looked at him, again with the concern in his eyes.

“Just, before you open it.” Aziraphale steeled himself. “I love you. All of you, in every way that is. I’ve just noticed that you’ve grown your hair out, which of course you’ve done plenty of times, but you’ve also started wearing nail polish and light makeup and, well, you carry yourself differently when you want to present more femininely and I’ve noticed it, in the way you walk and hold your shoulders. You haven’t presented like that in awhile and you _said_ you wanted a change so I thought this might be it. Oh, please open it or I’m going to talk us into the next century.”

Crowley’s expression was unreadable as he stared at Aziraphale and his hands trembled nearly imperceptibly as he lifted the sleek black lid of the box on his lap. He moved the gold paper aside and stared down at the dress. His expression remained unreadable as he traced his fingers along the lace trim around the collar. 

Aziraphale couldn’t stand the silence and began pacing, gripping his hands nervously. “You don’t have to wear it, of course, it’s just that your long legs look so lovely in skirts and dresses and when I saw this in the shop with Anathema, it positively reminded me of you, dear, and--”

“Angel,” Crowley said quietly, but firmly. Aziraphale turned to face him, worrying at his lip until he saw Crowley’s soft smile and yellow eyes shining earnestly at him. “I love it.”

Aziraphale’s heart soared and he breathed an enormous sigh of relief. “You do? Oh, good. I so hoped you would. It’s more formal than what you normally wear but I thought maybe the next time we go to dinner somewhere more upscale we could really get dressed up and make a night of it.” Crowley looked at him openly, adoringly. “Mostly I just wanted to show you that no matter your preferences day to day, that I love _you_ and that’s never going to change.”

Crowley continued to smile at him until he remembered the box on his lap and turned his attention to it once more. He lifted the dress out of the box and stood up, examining it from all angles. He then snapped and miracled it onto himself and oh, Aziraphale was glad he didn’t need to breathe because he wouldn’t have been able to. 

Crowley was a _vision_. The wine red satin complimented Crowley’s long, auburn hair and the black lace at the collar was a stark contrast to Crowley’s skin. The bodice hugged his flat chest and then Crowley _twirled_ and the skirt flared out before settling again at his knees. Aziraphale’s fingers twitched, itching to _touch_.

It was a moment before he realized Crowley was looking expectantly at him. “Well? How do I look?” Nervous, under the cool confidence he always projected.

Aziraphale crossed the short distance between them and settled his hands on Crowley’s waist, stroking the fabric at his ribs. Crowley shivered. 

“Oh my dear, I think if Hera, Aphrodite, and Athena had seen you in this dress, they would have just handed you that golden apple with no hesitation.” He looked up at Crowley and raised one of his hands to place a palm to his soft cheek. 

“Shaddup.” Crowley rolled his eyes, but pressed a quick kiss to the inside of Aziraphale’s wrist, raising his own hand to cover Aziraphale’s. “Thank you, Aziraphale. For the dress. It really is perfect. The Ritz, tomorrow night?”

Aziraphale beamed. “It’s a date.”

Crowley kissed Aziraphale sweetly on the lips and they both sighed. A year and it was still novel, indulging in his impulse to _kiss Crowley_ and not have to think twice about it. Aziraphale slipped his hand lower to brush against the hem of the dress and Crowley pulled back tutting. 

“Mm, naughty angel. Hands to yourself. You can’t ruin this dress before I’ve had a chance to show it off. I swear, you’re insatiable.” He ran his hands down the dress one more time and his mouth opened in surprise as they slipped into the folds of the dress.

“It has pockets! Aziraphale, you spoil me.”

“A bit of a minor miracle on my end, I’m afraid. It really is ridiculous that feminine clothing has such a problem with pockets. Are you sure that wasn’t one of yours?”

Crowley grimaced. “Not one of mine. I have no interest in catering to the suffering and displeasure of women, specifically. Humans do that well enough themselves.”

“An equal opportunity demon, are we?”

“Of course, angel. What would be the fun otherwise?”

(The next night, Crowley sends a mirror selfie in the dress to Anathema with a caption that says “Thanks, Annie!” accompanied by several dancing women emojis.

She responds: “Don’t ever call me Annie again.”  
Then: “You look great” with a cat smiling emoji)

\----------

Now that Aziraphale had been given enthusiastic permission to buy Crowley anything that caught his eye, well. He might have gone overboard.

But how was he supposed to reign himself in when this whole new world had opened up to him? He spent hours walking the streets of London, popping into every shop he could find, gradually refining his knowledge of Crowley’s taste. 

One day several weeks later he came teetering into Crowley’s flat carrying six shoeboxes, three jewelry boxes, two garment bags, and an additional four boxes of clothing and Crowley sighed dramatically as Aziraphale miracled them into a pile before they could crash to the floor.

“Honestly, angel. Have you cleared out every boutique in London?”

“Just about,” Aziraphale teased. He looked at Crowley to see what he had chosen to wear today and sighed in pleasure. Crowley leaned sinuously against the table in a sheer, long-sleeved black blouse and a black leather skirt, settled high on his waist and resting at his mid-thigh. Black onyx studs that were purchased last Thursday adorned Crowley’s (miraculously) pierced ears.

Aziraphale walked towards him, raking his eyes across Crowley’s lithe form. “Well don’t you look lovely today, darling.” 

The angel’s fingers skirted along Crowley’s blouse, the feel of the demon’s well-defined muscles under the texture of the fabric setting his nerves alight. He tilted his head up and carded his fingers through Crowley’s hair - longer now, but still falling in those gentle waves past his shoulders - and pulled him down for a kiss.

Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's waist to pull him closer. Aziraphale continued to feel along the blouse, smoothing his hand over his flat stomach and feeling Crowley jump at the touch. He raised his hand until he experimentally grazed the pad of his thumb against Crowley’s nipple through the blouse. 

Crowley growled and hopped up on the table behind him, pulling Aziraphale closer and wrapping his legs around his waist. He licked along his bottom lip and Aziraphale opened his mouth eagerly, moaning as Crowley's tongue slipped past his lips and slid against his own. He sucked on Crowley’s tongue at the same time he stroked his nipple again and Crowley whined. He dug his heels into Aziraphale's back and began to undo the buttons on his waistcoat before Aziraphale pushed him back, panting heavily. 

“Darling, I’d love to continue but we have plans for tonight.”

Crowley growled in frustration. “You come here with half of London’s shopping district, _you_ assault _me_ with your perfect mouth, and then you tell me we have plans? You are the world’s biggest tease, angel, and I can't believe I let myself get treated this way. Sod Bake Off, we can watch it on demand tomorrow.”

Aziraphale gasped and put his hand over his chest. He had reacted similarly when Crowley had once called him “a bit dramatic.” 

“Sod Bake Off?! Now Crowley, really. Be reasonable. It's patisserie week and I specifically got us dinner and pastries from that little French bistro I love because I know I'm going to be thinking of nothing else but eclairs after the episode is over.”

Crowley and Aziraphale were in agreement that The Great British Bake Off was one of the finest things humans had invented themselves. It was the only television program that Crowley had successfully gotten Aziraphale to watch and be invested in. He adored the way the angel gasped and clutched his arm during the tense moments and also how he clapped his hands whenever someone presented a particularly good bake. 

Crowley also loved Paul Hollywood, not quite convinced he wasn't from Downstairs. The way he stared a little too long as the bakers explained their techniques and then walked away without a word radiated pure demonic energy. 

Aziraphale didn't speak to Crowley for two weeks when he discovered he was responsible for the program’s move to Channel 4. 

Crowley flopped back on the table, wincing at the cold surface through his sheer blouse. “Yes, fine, all right. But if I'm not in the mood later, it's on you.”

“If you're not in the mood later, I'll know the real end of the world has come.”

Crowley scowled and went to yell at the plants until Aziraphale had set up the dinner spread. 

When it was time for the show to begin, Aziraphale sat on the couch and gestured to Crowley to sit in his lap. Crowley huffed dramatically, bending at the waist to pick up the tray of desserts from the coffee table, purposefully moving his skirt a little higher so Aziraphale could see a flash of red underwear before he stood up and sat comfortably across the angel’s thighs, pulling the tray down on his lap.

He tore off a chunk of pistachio eclair, held it between his fingers, and pressed it to Aziraphale’s lips. Aziraphale happily accepted the bite, humming contentedly as he savored the contrast between the soft and sweet choux pastry and the crunchy and salty pistachio topping. He chased the filling left on Crowley’s thumb and sucked it slowly into his mouth, watching the demon’s yellow irises enlarge. He hummed again as he continued to work his tongue around Crowley’s thumb, making sure he cleaned every last crumb. 

He finally let Crowley’s thumb slip out of his mouth and closed his eyes in pleasure. “Scrummy. Another bite would you, dear? Or maybe one of the petit fours?”

Aziraphale pretended to ignore Crowley’s quick breathing and also how he was quickly getting erect as Crowley squirmed, a delicious weight in his lap. He pursed his lips to the side in concentration over which flavor he should try next before Crowley growled in frustration and shoved a red velvet petit four into his hands.

“Angel, it is about to start and you can’t possibly be planning on teasing me throughout the entire next hour while we watch fucking _Bake Off_.”

“I once kept you on edge for three entire days straight. I don’t see how an hour’s teasing would be a problem.”

Crowley looked at him with displeasure. “You’re lucky I like you so much. Don’t know how else I’d let myself be _treated_ this way.”

Aziraphale smirked and kissed him chastely on the lips. “Yes, yes, dear. I’m a monster who never satisfies you. Now let’s see what these talented bakers create this week.”

Aziraphale _did_ pay attention to the show, but he also paid attention to Crowley. He paid attention when Crowley’s breath hitched as he dipped his fingers just under Crowley’s hem and then lowered to trace light circles around his bare knee. He paid attention when he ran his neatly manicured nails along the nape of Crowley’s neck, playing with an errant curl, and Crowley’s eyes fluttered shut. And he paid attention as halfway through the Showstopper judging, Crowley couldn’t seem to bear it anymore and buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck with a shaky exhale.

Aziraphale rested his head against Crowley’s, cradling him in his arms and neck. He was hard, but Crowley was being so good for him and he knew his love could last another few minutes.

As the chipper melody that signaled the credits started, he waved his hand and the TV flickered off. He held Crowley close for a moment longer. 

“I think it's time for dessert,” Aziraphale announced. 

Crowley whipped his head up and looked at him incredulously. His eyes were glazed and his mouth fell open, and oh Aziraphale could just devour him. “Dessert? Angel, you've been eating eclairs for an hour.”

“You know full well there was more than just eclairs. But yes, dear, dessert. You see, I haven't had my favorite thing to eat yet.”

Crowley twisted around to look at the take-out on the table. “I think I saw some mille-feuille in one of the box--” Crowley’s sentence was cut off by Aziraphale’s hand slipping under his skirt and rubbing his sensitive labia through his soaked underwear. “Ohhhh, _yesss_, angel.”

“Still in the mood, my love?”

Crowley answered by grinding his hips down against Aziraphale’s cock which had been pressing like an iron rod against his arse. He hissed in pleasure. Aziraphale kissed fervently down Crowley’s jaw and Crowley tossed his hair to the side to give him better access. 

Aziraphale’s fingers resumed their ministrations, lightly stroking Crowley in time with the licks and bites he was planting on his neck. Aziraphale groaned as he felt Crowley’s juices already dripping down his thighs. “I think you like patisserie as much as I do,” he teased. 

Crowley gasped as Aziraphale moved the thin fabric aside and used his index and ring finger to spread Crowley wide, middle finger sliding easily along Crowley’s swollen clit. “Oh no, you know this is your fault,” he said breathlessly. “Those noises you make while eating. You sucked on my _thumb_. And those wandering hands of yours…” He lifted his hips to try to hurry Aziraphale along.

Aziraphale gripped at Crowley’s hip and held him down. His tongue circled Crowley’s earring before nibbling on the shell of his ear. “You were so good for me, darling. So patient.”

Aziraphale changed the angle of his hand and slipped a finger into Crowley's slick heat. Crowley keened high in his throat and a flush spread across his chest, visible through the blouse. He buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck and continued to whimper and press open-mouthed kisses against his throat and the underside of his jaw. 

Aziraphale added another finger, luxuriating in the lazy drag of his fingers pumping in and out and his thumb catching the edge of Crowley’s clit until he heard Crowley’s breath hitching and felt him clenching around his fingers. He slid the hand gripping Crowley’s waist up to rub against his clothed nipple in time with his thrusts. Crowley gasped and sobbed in his lap, moving deliciously against his cock which was throbbing without being touched properly. 

Crowley whispered “Please, angel,” against his chest and Aziraphale moved his hand faster and pressed down hard against his clit and Crowley cried out, shaking and clenching around Aziraphale's fingers as he came. 

Aziraphale continued to move in and out slowly as Crowley rode out his orgasm until Crowley pulled at his hand, too overstimulated to continue. Aziraphale kissed his forehead and removed his drenched hand from Crowley’s cunt. 

“My dearest. You were so good, staying still and patient, trusting me to reward you in the end. Nothing compares to you when you're falling apart in my arms.”

Crowley’s breathing evened out and he sat up to swing his legs over either side of Aziraphale and began rocking his hips back and forth. Aziraphale ran his hand up Crowley's stomach, feeling the muscles jump, the light dusting of hair through the sheer fabric, the hard nipple he had teased earlier and Aziraphale moaned. He miracled Crowley’s buttons open and pushed the offending fabric out of the way before leaning forward and taking the hard peak into his mouth. He grazed his teeth against it, pulling back slowly and Crowley’s fingers threaded through his hair, tugging hard and choking back a groan.

“Come on, Aziraphale. Take your trousers off, need to feel you inside me.”

His hands slipped under Crowley’s skirt and held his hips still, fingers squeezing hard enough to bruise. He continued to suck at Crowley’s nipple. Crowley’s hands scrabbled at his scalp. 

Aziraphale pulled back. “In a little bit, dear, but I do believe I mentioned dessert.” He reached his hand down and swiped his finger along Crowley’s slit, Crowley’s come sticking to his finger. He brought it up to his lips and uttered a noise of delight as he sucked it into his mouth. 

Crowley was sweet and salty tang combined with something so distinctly _Crowley_. His cock leaked more precome and he was certain there must be a damp patch through his trousers. 

Aziraphale knew he put more stock in material and tactile pleasures than an angel was supposed to, but he was also sure that if any other angel had spent their time on Earth, had seen how humanity had flourished and perished, had seen the invention of bread and soups and _sushi_, they would have been consumed by it too. But even if they weren't convinced by that, he knew the taste of Crowley could turn anyone who tasted him from Heaven. What celestial harmonies could compare to the way Crowley’s cries sounded as Aziraphale took him apart? What love could Heaven provide that he would be missing in the soft affection that was openly in every look Crowley had given him over the past year (over the past 6000, if he were being honest). 

No, anyone in their right mind would have chosen Crowley over everything. He was just so, supremely lucky that Crowley had chosen him too. 

He pulled his finger free with an obscene pop. “Don't know why I was eating the eclairs when I could've had this instead.” He hummed in thought. “Oh, but my dear. Where are my manners? You haven't had any.”

Aziraphale took another swipe between Crowley’s folds and brought two fingers to Crowley's lips. “Suck, Crowley.”

Crowley darted his tongue out to taste himself on Aziraphale's fingers before opening his mouth eagerly and taking his fingers in as far as he could. The heat coiling in Aziraphale’s belly was reaching a fever pitch. 

Crowley was a feast for his senses and he was ravenous. 

The flush that spread across Crowley’s chest, high up his neck, the symphony of explicit noises he made as he shamelessly ran his tongue along Aziraphale's fingers like they were his cock, the smell of Crowley’s arousal still dripping on the leather, the taste of Crowley still in his mouth, and the _feel_ of Crowley, rocking against him like he couldn't help it and pinning Aziraphale to the couch. 

Crowley’s eyes were closed, deep in pleasure, mouth spit-slick and red. Aziraphale pulled his fingers away, dragging them down Crowley's lips and chin to wipe them off. 

Crowley opened his eyes and whimpered at Aziraphale’s hungry expression. “Angel, I need you inside me right now.” He snapped his fingers and Aziraphale groaned as his garments disappeared and his cock finally sprang free, flush and sticky with precome. 

“I was hoping to be face-deep in your cunt first--”

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s cock, rubbing the sensitive head against his wet folds and hissing when it dragged over his clit. 

“_Right now_,” and sank onto his cock in one quick motion. They both uttered a sharp gasp and Aziraphale felt the wind knocked out of his chest at his cock finally getting attention. He wasn't going to last long at this rate - teasing Crowley had been torture for him too. 

Crowley began undulating his hips and Aziraphale rested one hand low on Crowley’s stomach, the other coming to tangle in Crowley’s hair and crashing their lips together with the taste of Crowley shared between them. 

Crowley arched his back, placing his hands behind him on Aziraphale’s thighs to balance as he continued to move his hips sinuously.

“Gonna come, Aziraphale. Are you--fuck--are you close?”

Aziraphale was going to fly apart at any moment. He thrust his hips up, fucking into Crowley quicker. “Yes, Crowley. I'm so close, you’re so beautiful, feel so good.” He moved his hand lower to rub circles over Crowley’s clit and Crowley cried out, grinding his hips down faster, panting Aziraphale’s name like a prayer. 

“Aziraphale, Zirapha--Azir--”

“Yes, Crowley, _come for me_\--” and Crowley came with a shout, digging his long nails in Aziraphale's thighs and Aziraphale snapped his hips in rapid fire and came, pulsing hot and hard into Crowley, the feeling of his cunt squeezing his cock for every last drop. 

Crowley slumped forward onto Aziraphale and clung to him. Aziraphale gently stroked his hair and rubbed circles on his back, whispering adorations. 

Finally Crowley lifted himself up, waving his hand to miracle away the mess as Aziraphale slipped out of him, and sat down next to the angel. He propped his arm up on the back of the couch and looked contemplative. 

“What do you get out of this?”

Aziraphale turned his head and looked confused. “Get out of what? I'm sorry, I don't know what you're asking.”

“This.” He sat up and smoothed his skirt down his legs and gestured to his hair, his blouse, now hanging loosely off his shoulders. “The clothes and the heels and the makeup. I guess it's just been so long since I felt and dressed like this, Nanny notwithstanding, and I was worried, clearly stupidly, that you would want me less. I think I was just curious what you get out of it. I can tell you prefer me like this if the extra closet I've had to miracle is any indication. I don't know. Just curious. Stupid, really. Forget I asked.”

“Let's make one thing clear,” Aziraphale said earnestly. “I prefer _you_, Crowley. You could never wear these clothes or makeup ever again and I would still find you just as desirable as I do now. I'm attracted to _you_, not necessarily the clothes.”

Crowley’s lips quirked. “But you do like the clothes.”

“Oh, of course. I like the _feel_ of the clothes, the textures, the movement. But more importantly, I like how _you_ feel in the clothes.” He chuckled. “I like that I have easier access to this--” he ran his hand gently along the edge of Crowley’s skirt and Crowley shivered, smiled.

“You must know I'm a bit of a sybarite by now, dear.” Crowley snorted. “Now that we don't have to worry so much about indulging, I want to take advantage of as much as I can. I want to make up to you every single moment that I made you feel like you deserved less than the world. Why shouldn't I want to see the one I love most confident in the way he presents himself? Why shouldn't I delight in that every opportunity I get?”

A tear rolled down Crowley’s face and Aziraphale wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. 

“Thank you. For always being here to reassure me when I get too in my head. You're too good to me.”

“Not good enough.” Aziraphale smiled fondly but then sat up with a start. “Did you say there's still some mille-feuille?” 

\----------

The next day Crowley leaned casually against one of the bookshelves, expression unreadable and tone flat, and said “If I'm the one wearing the clothes, maybe you should take me shopping with you.”

Aziraphale shooed the two customers lingering in the shelves out, muttering hurriedly about an unexpected pipe leak, and all but dragged Crowley out of the store. 

He asked what Crowley had in mind and he shrugged. “Just take me on your normal route, angel. I'm sure we’ll enjoy ourselves.”

Aziraphale led him to his favorite shop, a large independently-owned boutique just down the street from the bookshop. He walked through the doors confidently and Crowley stalked in behind him, hands in his trouser pockets. 

Upon hearing the bell chime, a middle-aged woman with olive skin and dark, curly hair looked up from the counter and smiled genuinely upon seeing Aziraphale. 

“Mr. Fell! It's been several days, we were starting to get worried about you.” Aziraphale grinned sheepishly. The woman’s eyes fell to Crowley. “Oh, and this must be your lovely wife, Antonia! You're a lucky woman!”

Aziraphale froze. He forgot that he'd been telling everyone Crowley was his wife just to stop further questions. He turned to Crowley, a pleading look in his eyes, but Crowley was already walking towards the woman, arm outstretched to shake her hand. 

“Antonia Crowley, how do you do? I'm sorry, my _husband_\--” Aziraphale blushed. “--forgets his manners sometimes. I don't know your name.”

“Rhea Thompson.” She shook Crowley’s hand firmly. “Years of being business neighbors with your husband and finally he stopped into my shop a couple weeks ago, nervous mess. Since then he's cleared out half my stock, not that I'm complaining, mind you! I'd try to return the favor, but I'm not much of a reader.” She laughed deep in her belly. 

Crowley smiled, all teeth. “Nah, he hates customers. You'd be in his better graces staying away. Now, Rhea, can you show me around this lovely shop of yours?”

They walked off together and Aziraphale stood dumbfounded, not quite processing the exchange he had witnessed. 

He walked around, pretending to browse while sneaking glances at Rhea and Crowley. After about twenty minutes, he let himself drop the pretense and just looked. 

Crowley was beautiful. The way his limbs moved, the way he seemed to be genuinely enjoying Rhea’s company, the way he caught Aziraphale looking at them and lowered his sunglasses to wink at him. 

He was so utterly infatuated, so deeply in love, for a year, seventy-nine years, 6024 years. The best, most thrilling, most reliable part of his life loved him, _chose_ him every day, every way. 

He wiped the tears threatening to spill over and walked over to Crowley and Rhea. 

“How are we getting along?”

“Antonia has great taste, Mr. Fell.”

Aziraphale glanced at the price tag of a long white dress Crowley was holding up. “Expensive taste, goodness.”

“Like I said, great taste!”

Aziraphale examined the white dress further, feeling the weight of the fabric in his hands. “White, dear? It's not normally your color.”

“You don't have a claim on whites and creams, angel.”

“No, I suppose I don't. It would look rather fetching with your complexion.” 

Crowley handed the dress to Rhea who walked it up to the front counter. 

“Special occasion only, angel, don't worry. I like our usual aesthetic contrast.” He walked around Aziraphale and then leaned in close, baring his teeth. Aziraphale rather felt like shark bait. “I've also selected some _special_ garments that are also for _special_ occasions that I’m certain you’ll enjoy.” He turned Aziraphale’s attention to the small section of lingerie in the corner and Aziraphale swallowed, his mouth suddenly going dry. 

He turned to Crowley with hope and hunger in his eyes. Crowley winked. “Special occasion, angel. Don't expect it so soon.”

He walked away towards Rhea, with an extra sway in his hips if that was even possible. 

Aziraphale stood gaping, immediately hard. Crowley in panties, in a bra, in a corset, in _stockings_, in anything sheer and lace and hugging to that perfect body. 

He walked over to a table adorned with jewelry. Keep focused, don't think about Crowley bent over, arse in the air, garter straps running down his legs… Keep focused, Aziraphale. 

A pair of long, gold, teardrop earrings caught his eye and he held them up and they glinted in the light. Their length would accentuate Crowley’s own long neck. Yes, he would add these to Crowley’s already large pile of purchases that were stacked near the front counter. 

“I love those.” Aziraphale jumped as Crowley whispered in his ear and slid his arms around his waist. 

“Crowley!” He turned around, Crowley’s arms still circling his waist. “Oh, do you? Yes, I thought they were lovely.”

“Lovely earrings for your lovely wife?” Crowley teased. 

Aziraphale flushed. “I do apologize for that, dear. I shouldn't have used that term without asking you. It was just an easier explanation than--”

“Angel.”

Aziraphale stopped talking and Crowley brushed a stray curl off his forehead. “You don't have to apologize for telling other people we’re married.”

_Oh_. Aziraphale’s heart felt like a quiet, steady flame, spreading throughout his whole body. Husbands, wives, _marriage_, such a human thing, something that should be inconsequential given the length and oneness of their relationship, and yet… 

The flame of his heart spread through his features and he beamed at Crowley. “Oh. Quite right, dear.” And he leaned up to kiss Crowley softly. Crowley cradled his face in his hands, tipping his head back. 

“Oi, I know this is Soho, but this isn't that kind of shop!”

They broke apart to see Rhea grinning at them. “Shall I go ahead and add those earrings to the tally then?”

“Yes, please do, Rhea dear. My dear husband here owes me for the treatment he put me through yesterday.”

Aziraphale pulled apart from him. “The _treatment_ I put you through? Good lord. Rhea, don't listen to anything she says. She's a wily serpent who can't be trusted. Now how much do I owe you for my wife’s little spree?”

Aziraphale paid for the purchases with a shop assistant as Crowley and Rhea chatted. Crowley kissed to either side of her cheeks and promised to come back and spend more of Aziraphale’s money soon. 

“You and Rhea got along. I have to admit, I wasn't expecting you to be so cordial,” Aziraphale commented as they walked back to the bookshop. 

“It's about being neighborly, Aziraphale. Thought you would be happy about that. Didn't want to come off as a big brood to someone we’d be seeing more of. Thought it wouldn't reflect well on you.”

If Aziraphale’s hands weren't full and if they weren't in the middle of the street in broad daylight, he would have kissed him senseless. 

\----------

They lay in bed, facing each other, hands clasped. 

“Be my husband,” whispered Crowley. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale replied. “And will you be mine?”

“Yes.”

“Be my wife.”

“Yes.”

“Be my spouse.”

“Yes.”

“Be _mine_, and I am yours.”

“_Yes_. I'm yours, and you're mine.”

The next morning Crowley presented Aziraphale with two matching gold bands. They slipped them onto each other’s fingers, kissed, and strolled out of the shop, arm in arm.

\----------

Aziraphale had been staring at Crowley for what seemed like an hour but was in actuality probably only about five minutes. He got stuck like this sometimes, so focused on memorizing Crowley’s features that he forgot staring was usually rude.

But Crowley’s features were singularly captivating. The perfect slope and hook of his thin nose. The deep lines and hollows of his cheeks, cheekbones sweeping up high to his temple. Thin lips and jutting chin.

And across it all, a thin smattering of freckles. Aziraphale loved his freckles, didn’t know whether Crowley had chosen them or if they had always been there but they reminded Aziraphale of constellations (which, in turn, reminded Aziraphale of Crowley’s freckles in a never ending cycle of _sap_).

He would also never tell Crowley lest it be the one thing finally too mushy for Crowley to stand, but he had a favorite freckle of his that changed daily. Today it was the one just above his right eyelid.

“Angel, if you want to have a staring contest, I promise I am uniquely qualified to win, as a literal snake.”

Aziraphale realized Crowley was staring back at him and gave a small start. “Sorry, just admiring your lovely features.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and bit his lip to stop his scowl from becoming a smile. 

“Although I have been thinking.” Crowley turned back towards him. “Where did you learn to do your makeup?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Some women a couple thousand years ago. It’s changed since then, but the basics have all stayed the same really. Why?”

Aziraphale shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve been wearing it the past couple of months so I was just curious. Do you do it by hand or use a miracle?”

“I do it myself. It’d be faster with a miracle but.” Crowley paused and sighed. “Honestly, angel, it’s soothing. The process of laying everything out, applying each product to my face. And later when I’m cleaning it off… It’s a ritual. Even during periods I wasn’t wearing makeup regularly, I would sometimes put it on at home to take my mind off things.”

Aziraphale nodded. It made sense. He had his own little rituals to get him through the days. He licked his lips and swallowed.

“Can I try?”

“Try my makeup?”

“Try putting it on you.” 

The yellow of Crowley’s eyes widened and Aziraphale watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He gave a small nod and stood up, walking towards the bathroom. He didn’t wait to see if Aziraphale was following, as if he didn’t want to give Aziraphale a chance to change his mind.

Aziraphale stood up and followed, entering the sleek, well-lit bathroom as Crowley pulled out a makeup bag from a drawer and set it near some brushes that were already present on the counter.

Aziraphale came up behind him and wrapped his arm around Crowley’s narrow waist. He pressed a kiss to his shoulder and Crowley leaned his head briefly against Aziraphale’s. He then turned and asked “Where do you want me?”

Aziraphale hadn’t really thought of the logistics when he made his request. He looked around. “You could sit on the counter, if that’s all right?”

Crowley nodded and pushed himself up onto the counter, legs swinging back and forth in the simple black wrap dress he wore, watching Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale picked up one of the brushes and ran his fingers along the bristles. “Oh!” The feathery soft texture seemed to float across his fingertips. He ran his fingers across it several more times. “Oh, that’s fun!” He looked up to see Crowley smiling softly at him.

“I, erm, where would you like me to begin?” 

Crowley shrugged, his hands perched on the counter. “I’m in your hands, angel. I can guide you through some of it, but I know the blokes you’ve become friends with throughout the years. I know you know the basics.”

Aziraphale nodded with feigned confidence. He looked over the various products in the bag, pulling out a couple of creams and powders, a few tubes of lipstick, and an eyeliner pencil and tube of mascara. Basics. He couldn't guess at what the rest of the items in the bag were for. 

He glanced back at Crowley whose hair was now pulled back into a ponytail, a cloth headband keeping the stray hair pushed back. Aziraphale giggled and Crowley frowned.

“Oi, none of that. I don’t know your skill level - I won’t have you mussing up my hair. I should really change out of this dress too, now that I’m thinking about it. I guess I’ll just have to trust you to make it right if you make a mess.”

Aziraphale pouted. “You’re radiant, my love. I would never laugh at the way you look. It’s just cute.” He playfully tugged on Crowley’s ponytail and Crowley’s eyes fluttered, his knuckles turning white at his sudden hard grip on the counter.

Aziraphale felt a bolt of heat shoot through him. Right.

He looked at the products he had pulled out and grabbed the one labeled foundation. He knew this much at least and felt more confident than he had a moment before. He looked at the array of brushes and sponges and he frowned. Confidence dashed.

“The one shaped like an egg. The pink one.” Heat simmered behind Crowley’s amber eyes.

Aziraphale reached for the egg-shaped sponge and squished the springy material between his fingers. 

“Get it wet in the sink and squeeze it out. Then you can put the foundation on, just a little, and dab it all over my face.”

Aziraphale followed his instructions, leaning over Crowley to turn the tap on. If Aziraphale hadn’t been so close to him, he wouldn’t have heard the nearly imperceptible inhale Crowley gave when Aziraphale brushed against him. 

Aziraphale moved back to apply the liquid to the sponge and then placed himself between Crowley’s spread legs. He darted his eyes over Crowley’s face and wrapped his arm around the demon, pulling him closer to the edge of the counter. Crowley adjusted his hands and gripped his knees around Aziraphale’s waist to steady himself. He stared past Aziraphale’s head as if eye contact could discorporate him on the spot.

“Sit up straight, please. And keep as still as you can.” Crowley’s spine straightened and then he remained perfectly still, every muscle thrumming with potential. He shut his eyes and Aziraphale exhaled slowly. “Perfect.” Crowley’s pinky twitched against the counter, but he would allow it.

Aziraphale lifted his hand and ran his thumb across Crowley’s cheekbone, fingers trailing lightly down his jaw. “If you want to stop or if I’m doing anything glaringly wrong, just say so. Crowley?”

“Yes, Aziraphale.” His voice sounded strained already. Aziraphale tapped his thumb against Crowley’s cheekbone twice to show his appreciation. He made quick eye contact with himself in the large mirror behind Crowley and then replaced his hand with the sponge, dabbing cool liquid across Crowley’s face. 

He continued to apply the foundation, using his left hand to gently turn Crowley’s head as he needed. And Crowley moved so pliantly, so _obediently_. Aziraphale felt another rush of heat move through his belly and felt his erection stirring. 

He moved his hand away and looked over Crowley’s face, making sure he had achieved even coverage. 

“My neck.” Crowley barely moved his lips as he spoke, not wanting to disobey Aziraphale’s earlier request to keep still.

“I’m sorry, dear?”

“You need to blend it down my neck.” 

“Right.” Aziraphale nodded. He tilted Crowley’s head back with two fingers and felt Crowley tighten his knees’ grip around his waist. Oh, he wanted to bite into the pale column before him, wanted to suck and leave marks so deep they couldn’t be covered up with makeup.

He blended the foundation down his neck and then guided Crowley’s face forward again. 

He admired his handiwork and reached for the powder. Surely this went next. He opened the container and used the poof already inside to apply powder to Crowley’s face. Crowley’s nose and mouth twitched, the powder tickling, but he still kept still. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I should have said something before I did that.”

“‘S’alright. Just check if there’s any streaks.”

Aziraphale noticed one and dragged his thumb along the corner of Crowley’s mouth. His lips fell open slightly as Aziraphale’s thumb brushed over them. Aziraphale’s hand lingered and then dropped to Crowley’s knee, moving his hem up and tracing small circles on his inner thigh. Aziraphale noticed Crowley’s dress tenting, so close to his own hard length, and bit back a groan.

“You’re doing so well for me, darling. Staying so still while you trust me with this. Thank you.” Crowley let out a whimper, his lips still parted. Aziraphale wanted to kiss him but he knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“I’m going to do your eyeliner next, dear. I’m going to do your top lids first but then I’m going to need you to open your eyes to do the bottom ones. Can you do that for me?” Crowley barely nodded.

“I need to hear you, Crowley.”

“Yes, Aziraphale.” Aziraphale squeezed his thigh and stepped closer between Crowley’s legs, careful to avoid brushing their erections together. He felt Crowley’s breath, hot and warm, panting against his face.

He moved his hand to the back of Crowley’s head to steady him, grabbing the pencil in the other hand. He had done this a hundred times on other men throughout the years. He felt confident from this point forward.

He kept Crowley’s eyelid taut and ran the dark charcoal pencil along the edge of his eyelid, making several passes to darken the line. He pulled back to check his work before leaning back in and adding a small wing at the corner of Crowley’s eye.

He switched to the other eye and Crowley’s breaths were coming in shallower now. 

“Shh, love. Steady now. Don’t want to hurt you.” He removed the pencil from Crowley’s eyelid as Crowley took a deep, steadying breath. “Good. So good for me,” he muttered, and continued working.

He finished the second eyelid and checked to make sure they were even. “I need you to open your eyes now. I’m going to put my hand over them so it’s not too bright at first.” He placed his hand over Crowley’s eyes. “Open.”

He felt Crowley’s eyelashes against his palm as he opened his eyes and then he slowly lifted his palm away from Crowley’s face. He looked into Crowley’s eyes and inhaled sharply, feeling like he was pinned by the gaze. His eyes were desperate and blown wide with yellow. He was acutely aware of every place they touched, the mere inches between Crowley’s aching cock and his own. It would be so easy to pull Crowley forward, to feel Crowley’s heels digging into the backs of his thighs.

Not yet.

“Are you doing all right?” 

Crowley hummed. 

“Good. Good. Now look up for me.” Crowley did as he was told and Aziraphale lined his waterlines.

“Look at me? Beautiful. Just beautiful, you really picked a color that accentuates your eyes. Shame that no one else gets to see how striking they are.” He quickly applied the mascara, humming appreciatively as Crowley’s eyelashes elongated.

He glanced at the tubes of lipstick he brought out, lips thinning in concentration. He picked them up and gently placed his hand on Crowley’s jaw. “Crowley?”

Crowley turned towards his voice like it was the only thing keeping him anchored to the ground. “What do you think? There's this very nice coral. Or this more classic red. Although I'm very partial to the plum…”

“Plum’s all right.”

“Lovely. Thank you, dear.” He uncapped the plum lipstick and twisted until the lipstick peeked out. 

“Now set your lips--exactly right. Of course you know, your lips are always perfectly painted. Keep holding still, dearest. Just a little longer.”

Aziraphale held Crowley’s chin firmly, applying the lipstick slowly, carefully. The deep purple perfectly complemented the yellow of his eyes and oh, he couldn't kiss him, not yet, not yet. 

He applied the last swipe of lipstick and Crowley moved to grab a tissue before freezing and looking at Aziraphale, eyes wide. Aziraphale gripped his chin harder but then loosened it. 

“I won't punish a first transgression. Turn around and take a look at yourself. Let me know how I did?”

Crowley twisted his spine to look behind him, still determined to keep his legs as flush against Aziraphale as they were. “Not bad. I haven't worn this color in awhile but I might start.” He turned back to face Aziraphale and licked his lips. “It'll remind me of whatever you're about to do to me.”

Aziraphale stepped forward and slid his hands up Crowley’s thighs, pushing the hem of his dress up and groaning when he saw that Crowley wasn't wearing any underwear. He leaned in to suck Crowley’s earlobe, hands wandering close to Crowley’s cock but never touching. Crowley kept his hands in a vice grip on the counter.

“You seem to have misplaced something, my dear.” Aziraphale kissed under his ear, down his jaw. He nipped at Crowley’s neck, sucking marks where he fantasized earlier and licking over the bruises he left. 

“Never had them,” Crowley gasped. “Wanted to surprise you.”

“Always so thoughtful. So _nice_.” He pressed a final kiss to Crowley’s throat and pulled back and oh, Crowley looked _fucked_ already. The headband had fallen behind his head, ponytail coming loose. His chest rose as he panted and _still_ his hands on the counter, keeping still for Aziraphale. Aziraphale’s heart swelled. _I love him, I love him._

“You can move now, you don’t have to be still.” Crowley slumped and rolled his shoulders, flexing his fingers to regain feeling. He reached out towards Aziraphale but hesitated. Aziraphale nodded.

“Yes, you can touch me. Thank you for being so patient. And because you were so good--” He wrapped his hand around Crowley’s cock. Crowley uttered a choked-off moan. “A little reward is in store, yes? Kiss me, Crowley.”

Crowley surged forward, grabbing Aziraphale’s face with both hands and kissing him like he was starving for it. Aziraphale pulled Crowley as close to him as he could, rutting his clothed cock against Crowley’s, still in Aziraphale’s grip. His hand dragged between them as he continued to work Crowley’s shaft, moving his thumb to lazily swipe around the head. 

Aziraphale swiped his tongue along Crowley's lips, tasting the bitter lipstick, and Crowley opened his mouth wider, tongue darting forward to meet his. Aziraphale savored the feel of Crowley’s tongue moving against his, the way Crowley sucked on his bottom lip. He stroked Crowley’s cock in time with his tongue and Crowley whined. He untied Aziraphale’s bowtie and threw it across the room. He quickly undid the buttons at Aziraphale’s waist and pushed that off his shoulders too before wrapping his arms and legs around the angel, digging his heels and his nails into Aziraphale’s back.

Aziraphale gave Crowley’s cock one last twist before letting go and pulling back from him. Crowley leaned forward as he tried to follow him, and oh Crowley was so _responsive_ when he got like this, every little touch had a reaction and every command was obeyed. 

Aziraphale felt his cock bob as he noticed Crowley’s ruined makeup, lipstick smeared over his face and eyeliner starting to smudge. He caught sight of his own reflection and saw the lipstick on his own face as well. He groaned. 

He raised his thumb and dragged it across Crowley’s lips, smearing the lipstick further around his face. Crowley’s eyes fluttered shut as he let Aziraphale contort his features. He opened them again when Aziraphale took his chin in his hand and slowly slid his thumb past Crowley’s kiss-bitten lips. He pressed hard, feeling Crowley’s rough tongue under the pad of his thumb and then slid it back and forth along the length of his tongue. Crowley held still as Aziraphale continued to fuck into his mouth before releasing his jaw and letting Crowley suck enthusiastically, laving his tongue around Aziraphale’s thumb.

Aziraphale slowly slid his thumb out of Crowley’s mouth and noticed the ring of plum around the base of his thumb. Crowley’s eyes flicked down and noticed the same thing.

“_Yesss_, angel.”

Crowley slipped off the counter and turned Aziraphale to press up against it. He dropped to his knees and Aziraphale immediately ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair, headband and ponytail long gone. 

Crowley hummed appreciatively before snapping his fingers and Aziraphale felt his clothes disappear. Crowley took Aziraphale in his hand and stroked lightly. Aziraphale’s fingers gripped reflexively in his hair. 

Crowley’s hand stilled and he looked up at Aziraphale, through long lashes, the ring of dark eyeliner making it seem like his eyes glowed in the light of the bathroom.

“Ruin it.” He dragged the head of Aziraphale’s cock around his lips, smearing precome and his lipstick even further. 

“_Ruin it_.” He slipped the head of his cock past his lips and held his mouth loose and open, never breaking eye contact with Aziraphale.

Aziraphale pushed his hips forward, his cock dragging along Crowley’s tongue the same way his thumb had. He groaned and pushed forward again in earnest, tightening his grip and pulling Crowley’s hair. Crowley’s eyes grew wide and then closed, relaxing his jaw, allowing Aziraphale to use him.

Aziraphale gave himself a few more slow thrusts before quickening his pace, holding Crowley’s head tight and fucking into the sinfully divine wet heat of Crowley's mouth. He hit the back of Crowley’s throat and held and Crowley swallowed around it without complaint. 

Aziraphale felt the pleasure building in his gut as he continued to thrust into Crowley’s mouth, his chin and lips dripping with spit. Tears streamed from the corners of Crowley’s eyes. 

“Crowley, look at me.”

Crowley opened his eyes and looked up at Aziraphale. His lipstick was nearly gone, striped along the length of Aziraphale. His mascara and eyeliner ran in tear tracks down his cheeks. 

“_Fuck_, Crowley, you are the most gorgeous creature in the universe. You’re so beautiful like this, on your knees and so open for me. How did I get this lucky? Usually I’d worry, but I know you savor this just as much as I do. I know you savor getting _fucked_ and used by me, letting me show you how much I love you like this. Can you feel how much I love you, dearest? Can you feel how hard, how good you make me feel? I wish you could see yourself right now.”

Aziraphale was struck with a thought and pulled Crowley suddenly off his cock. Crowley inhaled sharply as Aziraphale pulled him up by his hair and spun him to face the mirror. He lifted Crowley’s dress, lined up his cock, and pushed in in one motion, assisted by Crowley’s spit and a minor miracle. Crowley gasped and scrabbled at the counter.

Aziraphale twisted his hand in Crowley’s long hair and yanked his head up to face the mirror. “Look at yourself, darling. See how we ruined your pretty makeup? You still look perfect like this, though. You always look perfect. Tell me, Crowley, are you enjoying this?”

Crowley nodded his head as best he could with Aziraphale’s hand still in his hair. “A-angel. Please, please touch me. I’ve been _good_.”

Aziraphale leaned forward over Crowley and kissed his neck, his cheek, the new angle bringing Crowley’s head further back, his spine curved, and his arse pushing back against Aziraphale’s plush stomach.

“Oh yes, darling, you’ve been so good for me. And how can I ever deny such a sweet thing like you anything?” 

He reached his other hand down to wrap tightly around Crowley’s cock and began stroking him in time with his thrusts. Crowley moved his hips frantically, chasing both Aziraphale’s cock and his hand. 

He met Aziraphale’s eyes in the mirror. “Ple-please. I’m going to--I need--”

“_Yes_, come for me, Crowley,” and Crowley was coming hot and thick over Aziraphale’s fist, eyes never leaving his in the mirror. Aziraphale loosened his grip in his hair and grabbed onto his hips. He thrust in several more times and chased Crowley’s orgasm, crying out and panting heavily. 

He slumped over Crowley’s body on the counter, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his shoulder and ran his hands down Crowley’s arms to ground him. He found Crowley’s hand and threaded their fingers, squeezed. Crowley suddenly shook beneath him and he stood up.

“Crowley, dear, are you all right? Did I hurt you? Oh, I overstepped didn’t I--” He was interrupted by Crowley cackling underneath him.

“What--Crowley, now what is so funny?” He crossed his arms across his chest.

Crowley’s shoulders shook as he continued to laugh. He stood up and bit his lip, trying to contain himself. “Did you _ever_ in a _million years_ anticipate us fucking in front of a mirror? Makeup all over my sodding face?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “Well no, Crowley, I didn’t. But I haven’t been thinking about you that way as long as you have about me. Besides, I did enjoy myself and I know you did too so I don’t know why you’ve suddenly found yourself in a tizzy.”

“Angel. Angel.” Crowley _beamed_ and Aziraphale swooned. He held Aziraphale’s face in his hands. “Nothing that just happened had ever crossed my mind in all the time I spent lusting after you. How could it? You continue to surprise me after this long and you’re _incredible_ for it. _We_ are incredible. I don’t know how we’re still allowed to do this.”

Aziraphale’s fingers circled Crowley’s wrist and stroked the sensitive skin there as Crowley continued to hold his face. He felt tears fall down his cheek and Crowley wiped them away.

“You almost make me feel like I deserve this.”

Aziraphale inhaled softly. “You deserve every single ounce of love I can muster and then tenfold. You deserve the world and I intend to give you as much of it as I can.”

Crowley kissed him softly and then turned away to face the mirror. “God, you really did make a mess. I need to wash this off. Also, honestly, what is it about your prick that makes me pontificate about how much I love you?” 

“I guess I’m just that good at lovemaking. Or it could be a character defect.”

“Definitely the latter. Don’t need another angel with an inflated ego.”

\----------

“Crowley!”

Aziraphale stormed around a bookshelf and found Crowley sprawled out on the couch, reading a tabloid. He lowered the paper and looked at Aziraphale patiently through his sunglasses.

“Yes, _dear_?”

“Do you realize that we are _married_ and we don’t live together?” 

Crowley chuckled and sat up, placing the paper on the table. “Wondered when you’d start thinking about that.” 

Aziraphale sputtered. Crowley held his hand up. “The way I see it, we do live together, we just live in two places. Think about it. We’re always together. We’re just either at my flat or at the bookshop.”

Aziraphale frowned. “Well yes, I suppose you’re right. Shouldn’t we be living in one place though?

Crowley shrugged. “Whatever you want, angel. My flat’s just where my things are. I can move my things anywhere. As long as you’re there, that’s all I care about.”

Aziraphale looked at the floor and blushed. He sometimes wondered if Crowley had always said things like that and he just hadn’t _noticed_ half the time.

“I’d like us to move in together. Officially. Probably into the bookshop? Although I don’t want to assume - I could move into your flat if you’d like. It’s a bit dreary but I think I could brighten it up.” 

Crowley’s lips twitched in a small smile as Aziraphale continued to pace around the room. “Although, I am actually running a business out of here so it probably makes more sense to stay here. Oh, but I know you don’t own much but it’s still _enough_ that I think upstairs might get a bit crowded…”

Aziraphale walked around weighing the pros and cons of each location, eventually making them cups of tea and setting the mugs down on the table in front of Crowley, who had remained silent or offered only noncommittal phrases the entire time.

“Crowley, you’re no use. You’re usually so eager to offer unnecessary input that the one time I need it, you’ve got nothing.”

Crowley took a long sip of tea and then placed the cup back on the table. “We don’t have to pick. We can find somewhere new. Out of London, maybe? Farther south, near the coast?”

Aziraphale looked at him with annoyance. “Did you just think of that or were you letting me flap about for your own amusement?”

Crowley took off his glasses as he took another sip of tea. “I thought of it maybe fifteen minutes ago, but I do like to hear you talk yourself in circles sometimes.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and tutted and then looked contemplative. “Do you know, Crowley? I think that might actually be perfect. A lovely cottage near the sea. Oh, and enough room for my books without anybody touching them or wanting to take them from me!”

“They pay you money. They’re not stealing.”

Aziraphale ignored him. “And you could have a garden! A big garden where you bully and torment the poor plants into submission. Mmph!” He had taken a bite of biscuit and waved it excitedly. “Farmers markets! Proper ones! Delightful little quiche and homemade _jam_.” 

He stared off into the distance. Crowley remained silent. 

“What was I saying?”

“Jam.”

“Yes, _jam_.” Aziraphale's eyes crinkled. “What a wonderful idea you've had. Thank you, dear.”

They decided to take their time looking for the perfect location, living between the flat and the shop in the meantime. They took long drives all along the coast, picnicking on beaches and cliffs, sampling restaurants and speaking with local estate agents trying to find the right home for their future. 

\----------

“The cliffs were spooky.”

“The cliffs weren’t _spooky_, they’re just big and orange. And have absolutely no railing at the top to prevent an accidental fall. That could be useful.”

“Crowley. Plus everything is quite near the beach and I was picturing something just a bit more secluded. I still want people around, but maybe not _quite_ that many.”

“Agreed.”

They had spent the day in a small bay town on the Jurassic Coast in Dorset and decided almost immediately after getting there that it wasn’t the place they were looking for. They ended the day back in London in one of Aziraphale’s favorite Italian restaurants. 

Aziraphale hummed in delight around his watermelon and oregano salad and Crowley swirled his glass of red, looking off into the distance.

“Oh! Got you something.” Crowley fished two tickets out of his trouser pockets and handed them to Aziraphale. “It’s been awhile since we’ve been.”

Aziraphale looked down to see two tickets to _Faust_ and he clasped them to his chest in delight.

“Oh, thank you! You’re right - it’s been ages since we’ve been to the opera. I can finally wear my tailcoat again.” He looked at the tickets again and then glanced wistfully at Crowley. “You know, I wanted to take you to this when it came out, but by the time it was being performed in London…” He paused. “It was 1864.”

Two years after he had asked for Holy Water. Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and rubbed his thumb over his knuckles. “Water under the bridge, angel. Besides, you know how operas are the first few years after they’re debuted. I’m sure there were several ballets and scenes added since then. We’ll be seeing the final product.”

Aziraphale squeezed his hand and then looked fretful. “Oh, I do hope I haven’t misplaced my tailcoat. It’s been so long since I’ve worn it.” He turned back to Crowley. “What are you wearing?”

Crowley grinned widely. “You let me worry about that.”

The next week Aziraphale got ready for the opera, waiting for Crowley to pick him up after he insisted they get ready separately. He straightened his black jacket in the mirror and heard Crowley call out “Angel?” from downstairs.

“Coming!” Aziraphale shouted. He gave himself one more look-over before descending the stairs. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, my dear. I was having trouble with--” Crowley came into view and he trailed off, his legs halting their descent as well.

Crowley was wearing the floor-length white gown they had bought on their first trip out together several months ago. His breath caught at the way the fabric clung to and pooled down Crowley’s narrow frame. The high collar with small white feathers wrapped tightly around Crowley’s throat. His eyes flashed over his lips, painted in a shade of red that perfectly matched his hair, and almost whimpered as Crowley darted his tongue out to wet them. His hair was piled in loose curls at his crown and Aziraphale noticed the gold teardrop earrings he bought that day as well glint through the loose tendrils framing his cheeks.

“Oh, _darling_,” he exhaled.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped again to notice that Crowley was _taller_. He glanced down to his feet and Crowley stuck his foot out and wiggled it, showing off gold heels that were much higher than what he wore usually. 

He crossed over to Crowley and ran his hands along Crowley’s bare arms, feeling the toned muscle underneath. “Aren’t you a _vision_. In fact, looking this enchanting is a tease. We have somewhere to be and I can’t ravish you right here or we’ll be late. Well, maybe we _could_ be late.”

Crowley swatted him lightly on the arm. “We are not going to be late just because you want to get your jollies off, angel.” He glanced down at his hand, still on Aziraphale’s arm, and said “Oh! I almost forgot.”

He reached into his large gold clutch and pulled out a pair of opera gloves that matched the dress. Aziraphale’s mouth went dry as he watched Crowley’s long fingers disappear into the glove and then flex to pull them tighter. 

Aziraphale brought his hands up to rub slowly up and down Crowley’s forearms and Crowley stood still, allowing him to take his fill.

He felt the smooth satin gliding under his fingertips and the feel of Crowley’s muscles. He dipped his fingers under the edge of the gloves and pressed into the pulse point. Crowley sighed and Aziraphale removed his fingers, continuing the path along Crowley’s arms, across his shoulders, tracing over his covered neck and pressing slightly, causing Crowley to breathe sharply through his nose. He remained still under Aziraphale’s ministrations, letting the angel touch, _feel_.

Aziraphale finally cupped Crowley’s face, his hair tickling the back of Aziraphale’s hands, and tilted his own head back to meet Crowley’s eyes. He stood on his tiptoes (and oh, wasn't that something) to reach his lips before kissing him firmly. Crowley bent down, his towering frame curling over Aziraphale’s, and wrapped his arms around the angel’s neck, humming contentedly. 

Crowley broke the kiss after several moments. “If we go any further, we’re going to be late and you’re going to smudge my makeup. You know I do all of this sans miracle, and as fun as that night was where you fucked the makeup off my face, we do have somewhere to be and I know you’ve been looking forward to this.”

Aziraphale pouted and Crowley laughed, turning towards the door. “That won’t work on me tonight, angel!” 

Aziraphale watched as Crowley’s shoulder blades shifted under the white gossamer pieces at the back of the gown and let out a burst of laughter. Crowley turned around again, frowning. “What?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, I’m sorry, dear. It’s just, well, the back of your gown rather looks like wings.” He giggled again and Crowley rolled his eyes, slipping his sunglasses on as he exited the shop. Aziraphale hurried behind him.

They arrived at the opera _on time, thank you very much, angel_ and Crowley pulled out a compact as they made their way through the lobby, frowning at his reflection.

“What’s wrong, dearest? You look radiant.”

Crowley pursed his lips disapprovingly and then shut the compact with a snap. “You did smudge my lipstick earlier. I’m going to the ladies room to touch up.”

“Do you want me to wait for you or should I make my way to our box?”

Crowley grinned. “Wait for me. I have a surprise for you when I return.” 

Aziraphale shot him a quizzical look but Crowley was already sauntering through the crowd into the restroom. 

He leaned against the wall watching the rest of the patrons filter into their seats. He fiddled with the gold band on his left hand and glanced up when he saw a pillar of white coming to a stop in front of him and his heart leapt into his throat when he saw _it_.

Crowley stood smiling nervously. “You didn’t think I’d get rid of it, did you?”

He wore a simple gold necklace, solid and thick. The gold was patterned with intricate scales and ended in a snake’s head, baring its fangs, at the dip between Crowley’s collarbones. Its topaz eyes flickered from the overhead lights.

Aziraphale felt tears sting his eyes as his hand came up to run along the scales. Crowley would never stop finding ways to surprise him. He was the single most spectacular being in creation.

“I had hoped you didn’t get rid of it, but I haven’t seen you wear it since the night I gave it to you. How long ago was that? It’s been _hundreds_\--”

“1672.”

“1672,” Aziraphale breathed. “I wasn’t planning on bringing you a gift that night, but we hadn’t seen each other for several years and I passed it in a shop and I _had_ to buy it. Snake jewelry will so often have ruby or onyx for the eyes, but this one had topaz. It matched you perfectly.” His throat felt heavy. He swallowed. “I had to get it.”

He looked up to see Crowley gazing adoringly at him through the sunglasses. 

“Why haven’t you worn it until now?”

“Well, I have. Just not around you. You’re right, though, not as often as I should have for how beautiful a piece it is. I just hadn’t known what you meant by it and I didn’t want to wear it around you while I was pining if that’s _not_ what you had meant by it. But I’ve always kept it.” Crowley’s lip twitched as he smiled softly. “You don’t just get rid of the first piece of jewelry your soulmate buys for you.”

Aziraphale felt like Crowley had punched him in the gut. 

_Soulmate_. If there wasn’t a better word in this language for what this beautiful, complicated being was to him. A word that encompassed nearly everything they’d shared, furtive glances and secret meals. Uproarious laughter and angry squabbles. The willingness, whether acknowledged or not, to do anything for the other. He knew the soft, hesitant way Crowley had said “soulmate” would echo through him forever.

“My darling, I know you just reapplied your makeup, but if you don’t kiss me this instant, I’m afraid I’ll discorporate.”

“Oh well, we can’t have that. The paperwork will be even more of a nightmare than usual.” They kissed tenderly and then beamed at each other before walking hand in hand to their private box.

Crowley hissed disapprovingly when he saw the two plush chairs in their box and waved a hand, turning them into a large fainting couch. He lay down languidly across it and stretched his arms high above his head. He took off his sunglasses and placed them on a small table next to the couch. He then ran his hands along his thighs before making grabby hands at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale sat and settled between Crowley’s legs, nestling his head under Crowley’s chin and smiling as his arms immediately came to wrap around his middle. The lights dimmed and they turned their attention to the stage.

Twenty minutes passed and as Mephistopheles tempted Faust into youth for his soul, Aziraphale whispered “Have you ever done that?”

Crowley scoffed. “Have I ever burst forth from a painting just to grant one old lecher the opportunity to fuck as many young women as he wants? No, angel. Not my style.”

Later Mephistopheles seduced a crowd of people with money, desire, and a rousing musical number. Crowley flung his arm out to gesture towards the stage. “Now see, this is more like it. Minimal effort, wide area of effect. Great music. That’s how you perform a temptation.”

Aziraphale laughed softly and stroked Crowley’s gloved hand. “Wily old thing.”

The rest of the opera passed without incident save for Crowley whispering comments so snarky against Aziraphale’s ear that he had to clap his hands over his mouth to stop barks of laughter from escaping. He swatted at Crowley’s hand and whispered, “Now _really_ dear, these folks are professionals and I don’t want to disrupt their hard work!”

Crowley buried his nose in white blonde curls and smiled.

They talked about the show as they walked back to the Bentley (“I know she’s redeemed and her soul is saved at the end, but that _poor_ Marguerite”), but on the drive back, their conversation settled into companionable silence. 

Until Aziraphale reached over to rest his hand high on Crowley’s inner thigh.

Crowley’s fingers flexed against the steering wheel. “A little higher if you don’t mind, angel.”

Aziraphale slowly moved his thumb in circles. “No, darling, there will be plenty of time for that later.” He cut off Crowley’s moan of protest. “Now, can you be good for me and stay quiet and still until we get back to the bookshop?”

Crowley whined but gave a small nod.

“Good,” Aziraphale purred and faced forwards in his seat. “Mind the road.”

He continued to rub circles into Crowley’s thigh, only stopping to murmur words of encouragement and once, to drag his nails up Crowley’s knee. Crowley bit his lip to stop any noise from escaping. 

“So good for me,” Aziraphale said softly before resuming his steady circles.

They arrived at the bookshop and Crowley parked on the curb, bolting out of the car and opening Aziraphale’s door as quickly as he could. 

Aziraphale laughed. “Thank you, my dear. Such chivalry.” He glanced down at the bulge in Crowley’s dress. “Oh,_yes_ let’s get you taken care of, shall we?”

Crowley shivered and nodded.

They made their way up the steps and Aziraphale felt Crowley crowding behind him as he unlocked the door, hand ghosting his back as if he was unsure he was allowed to touch yet. They passed the threshold and Crowley gasped as Aziraphale swung him around and threw him back against the door. He peppered kisses along the edge of Crowley’s high collar and he felt soft gloves slipping through his hair easily as Crowley played with his curls.

He felt Crowley gently pull his head back.

“Please. Kiss me.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes crinkled in a smile. He stood on his toes to kiss Crowley, reaching his hands into Crowley’s hair to pull at the pins keeping his hair up. Crowley whimpered and clung to Aziraphale’s jacket as he slipped his tongue into Crowley’s mouth.

Aziraphale still, after almost a year and a half, would never get used to how perfect just _kissing_ was. The way Crowley’s body felt pressed against his, the line of the demon’s hard cock brushing his as Crowley rutted against Aziraphale’s thigh. The feeling of Crowley’s lips and teeth and tongue. _God_, he could live the rest of his life doing nothing but running his tongue along Crowley’s, sucking on his lips, swallowing every pleased, contented noise Crowley made and he’d be _happy_. An eternity in this sinful warmth that he was so easily and willingly allowed to partake in now.

Aziraphale pulled back, nuzzling his nose along the bridge of Crowley’s. Crowley moaned softly as he continued to slowly grind his hips against Aziraphale’s thigh.

Crowley towered above him in the heels and Aziraphale’s eyes settled at the necklace at his eye level. He reached out again to stroke the scales with reverence.

“I can’t tell you how happy it makes me that you kept this. I didn’t mean it, consciously at least, to be a romantic gift at the time. But your smile when I presented it to you and, well, given what _we are_ now…” He stood again on his tiptoes and leaned in next to Crowley’s ear, pushing his own erection against Crowley’s, crowding him further up against the door. “It’s a nice reminder that you’ve been _mine_ since before I even knew it.”

He bit his earlobe and Crowley yelped. He hastily ripped off the gloves while kicking his feet, heels flying across the room into unknown depths. His hands flung his sunglasses into similar unknown realms and he sobbed as Aziraphale sucked on the sensitive spot under his ear.

“Yours, only ever yours, Aziraphale. Forever. Always.” He struggled to catch his breath. “Upstairs? Please?”

Aziraphale nodded against his neck, pressing one last kiss before stepping back, giving them both a moment to collect themselves. 

Crowley led the way up the stairs into the bedroom, presenting Aziraphale with a lovely view of his _perfect_ arse in the dress that clung to his form. When Crowley reached the foot of the bed, he spun around and his face was bursting with mischief. Aziraphale felt wary but his traitorous cock twitched in anticipation.

“The necklace isn’t the only surprise I have for you tonight, angel.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale said faintly, wondering how anything could possibly top how utterly sentimental Crowley had shown himself to be earlier. _Soulmates_.

Crowley reached both hands behind his head where he fiddled with a zipper at the nape of his neck. 

“Seeing as how it’s a _special occasion_.” 

The high collar of the dress fell, shortly followed by the rest of the white silk falling down his body and pooling at his ankles. He stepped out of the dress and pressed his lips together, trying to stop smiling as widely as he was.

Aziraphale was actually going to discorporate this time.

He was wearing what Aziraphale assumed the _special garments for a special occasion_ were that he had picked out the first time at Rhea’s shop. Aziraphale had never been so hard in his life. He wanted his eyes, his hands, his mouth _everywhere_. He didn’t know where to look first.

At Crowley’s slim legs, pale skin shining through the black stockings that made them look even longer somehow. At the gold lace cuff of the stockings, clinging to his lean thighs. At, and Aziraphale groaned, Crowley’s stiff cock, dark with desire, straining against the black lace of the panties in a way that was _obscene_. A large dark spot was present near the waistband where Crowley’s cock peeked out. At Crowley’s chest, perfectly freckled and flushed from their earlier activities. The way his chest moved as he breathed. At the necklace that Crowley had kept safe for nearly three-hundred and fifty years, wearing it proudly now as if to scream _Hear ye! I, the demon Crowley, temptress of original sin, doth proclaim that I belong wholly to the angel Aziraphale, guardian of the Eastern gate, right bastard and best friend_.

But finally Aziraphale’s eyes travelled up to Crowley’s face, his beautiful yellow eyes holding the world’s desire, biting his lip both seductively and self-consciously as Aziraphale studied him. His lipstick was ruined and his hair finally pooled around his shoulders without the pins holding them in place.

Aziraphale moaned lowly “Oh, _Crowley_” before closing the distance between them and dropping to his knees.

He mouthed at Crowley’s cock, his tongue alight with sensation as it dragged across the fabric. He pulled the panties down slightly and took the tip of Crowley’s cock into his mouth, tasting the salty tang. Crowley choked and brought his hand to rest on Aziraphale’s head. Aziraphale hummed and rubbed his face against the soft lace and warm skin beneath his cheek.

“So you like your present?” Crowley laughed breathlessly. “Worth the wait?”

Aziraphale continued to rub his nose along Crowley’s cock and reached behind him to massage and knead at his arse. His fingers ran lower, dipping below the stocking seam and he snapped the elastic against Crowley’s skin.

“There has never been anyone more delectable.” He kissed at the expanse of thigh above the stockings. “More decadent.” He moved higher and kissed the lace underwear. “More _tempting_ than you, my love.” He pressed a final kiss to the flushed head. He then pulled the lace up to fully cover Crowley and stood up on shaky knees.

Crowley’s face was dazed, lips slick and parted. He only seemed to snap to when Aziraphale once again ran his fingers along the necklace and then hooked his finger under, pulling Crowley closer to his face.

“So tempting and it’s all to waste because you’re _mine_. So pretty in all the things I’ve bought you. You were stunning tonight, as usual my dear, but what made it so special was knowing that every single thing you were wearing I bought for you. Every inch of clothes on your body were worn because I liked them and asked you to wear them for me. And you’ll do anything I ask, hm? So desperate to please. As if you could ever do anything to truly make me cross, looking like that and being as spectacular as you are.”

Crowley looked like he was drowning under the praise. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from Aziraphale’s, as if his intense, hungry gaze was the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. 

“Angel, I- I nee- please. Please.”

Aziraphale cupped his face. “Shh, love. Yes. Tell me what you need.”

Crowley shook his head and started pushing Aziraphale’s jacket off his shoulders. He fumbled at the buttons around his waist before Aziraphale stepped back and Crowley whimpered at the loss of contact. 

“Just one moment, my love. You're doing so well. I'll be back in just a tick.” Aziraphale quickly shucked the remainder of his clothing and set them aside. He then cradled Crowley and lowered him to the bed, kissing his lips softly. Crowley hummed underneath him and his hands roamed over Aziraphale's skin, feverish with desire. 

Aziraphale trailed kisses down Crowley’s jaw, his neck, took a pert nipple between his teeth causing Crowley to keen high in his throat and lift his hips in anticipation. Aziraphale gently pushed his hips back to the bed but quickly pulled the underwear down and took Crowley into his mouth. Crowley moaned and threaded his fingers through Aziraphale's hair. 

“Yesss.”

Aziraphale slowly sucked on the head, applying gentle pressure and swirling his tongue and swiping along his slit. Crowley gently pushed his head down and Aziraphale allowed him to be guided, taking Crowley farther into his mouth. 

Aziraphale bobbed his head up and down, allowing his fingers to brush up and down Crowley’s stocking-clad legs. This was everything, Aziraphale thought. Crowley’s soft noises above him, a thick cock in his mouth, and the slide of stockings running under his sensitive fingertips. He couldn't believe this was his life. That every decision, every moment had taken him to this: the love of his life in nothing but lingerie and a _collar_ representing their unique, millennia-long story falling apart under his ministrations. 

He felt Crowley’s hands pull his head up and Aziraphale let him pull free from his lips. “Gonna come if you go any further, angel. I want to come with you inside me.” 

Aziraphale let out a shaky breath against Crowley's thigh and sat up on his knees. He looked at Crowley's cock, slick with spit and precome, and saw that the panties were wet and stretched beyond saving. He frowned slightly. 

“Oh dear, you've ruined these pretty, expensive panties I bought for you.” He tapped Crowley’s leg and Crowley lifted his hips so Aziraphale could slip them off him. He pressed them to his nose and inhaled deeply. Crowley’s eyes rolled back and his head thunked on the pillow. He laughed breathlessly. 

“I can always miracle them clean after we're done.”

Aziraphale’s head snapped up. “Don't you _dare_. You're not the only sentimental one - I'm keeping these. The first of no doubt countless pairs you'll ruin with this perfect, gorgeous cock.”

Crowley groaned again. “Angel, please. Please. I need you inside me. I can't wait.” 

Aziraphale lifted Crowley’s calves and hooked his ankles over his shoulders. He miracled his fingers slick and pressed two fingers to Crowley's entrance. He pressed in slowly and Crowley hissed. Aziraphale continued to move his fingers slowly, savoring the feel of Crowley. 

“More.”

Aziraphale slid another finger in and pressed his forehead against Crowley’s stocking-clad foot. Crowley clenched around him. 

“Come on, come on, angel. I'm ready.”

Aziraphale breathed. He pressed the head of his cock to Crowley’s entrance and rocked himself into Crowley, moving in and out slowly until he buried himself to the hilt. 

They both moaned and then Aziraphale set a quick pace, admiring Crowley’s long body folded and stretched beneath him. He turned his head and panted into Crowley's ankles, rubbing his face on the stockings, never getting his fill of the feel. 

“Perfect, my perfect Crowley.” He grabbed Crowley’s cock and stroked it firmly, still wet from Aziraphale’s spit. 

Crowley let out a sharp arpeggio of “Yes! Yes! Yes!” He buried his face in the pillows and clutched at the sheet, at Aziraphale's forearm. 

Aziraphale tightened his grip on Crowley’s cock and leaned forward, shifting the angle to hit his prostate with each thrust. “Come for me, darling.” 

Crowley shut his eyes and shouted, every muscle tensing as he came hard over Aziraphale's hand, thick strands shooting up his chest and clenching around Aziraphale. Aziraphale slowed down but kept a steady pace fucking into him. 

Crowley finally opened his eyes and started moving his hips to meet Aziraphale. Aziraphale felt every muscle in his body tensing and radiating pleasure as he swiftly approached the end. 

Aziraphale swallowed, his voice sounding wrecked. “My darling. Can I--on your stockings?”

Despite having just come, Crowley’s cock bobbed and leaked at Aziraphale’s words. “Yes. _Yesss._ Come all over the stockings you bought me, that I wore just for you,” he hissed.

Aziraphale felt dizzy as he pulled out and held Crowley's right leg still, fisting his cock quickly. It only took him a couple of strokes before he was coming, streaking the pure black of the stockings with white, mouth open in a wordless shout. He caught his breath and watched the come slide down Crowley’s leg. Aziraphale bent forward, bracing himself on either side of Crowley’s head and felt the demon stroke his hair as their breathing evened out. 

Aziraphale turned them on their sides, facing each other. He smiled softly as Crowley continued to stroke his hair and circled his fingers around Crowley’s wrist. 

“Looks like I'm not the only one who ruined some lingerie tonight.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, hush.” He continued to search Crowley's face, illuminated by the soft light in the room. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

Crowley looked at him with concern. “Which part?”

“About us. Being soulmates.”

Crowley blushed and looked away before meeting Aziraphale’s gaze. “Yeah, I did. Humans think it means you share the same soul or some shit like that. You and I know better, but even still, you're part of my essence, angel. I'm not complete without you and even if I was, I wouldn't want to be.”

Aziraphale ducked his head and then pulled Crowley into a slow, sweet kiss. They smiled against each other’s lips before breaking apart and pressing their foreheads close. 

“You're part of me too, Crowley. One of the best parts.”

\----------

They found the perfect cottage in the South Downs on a Saturday. 

Room enough for Aziraphale’s books and then some and an unkempt but expansive garden already in place. Crowley walked around snarling at the plants and the crawling ivy along the side of the building perked up and blossomed under his wrath. 

Good potential.

They walked around town the rest of the day and returned to the cottage at night at Crowley’s insistence. He leaned against the fence gate and looked up at the stars for several minutes before nodding. “This one.”

They were fully moved in by Wednesday.

\----------

At the beginning of December, Crowley received a text from Anathema inviting them to a small holiday party in Tadfield in the coming weeks. 

Crowley texted back a thumbs up, an angel, and a devil emoji. 

He told Aziraphale after he arrived back from the local markets, carrying several crocheted bags full of fruit, cheese, and baguettes for their lunch. He set the bags down on the spacious kitchen counter. 

“Oh yes, we must. I told her we would visit soon and that was about five months ago. Why didn't she text me?”

Crowley sighed. “Where's the cell phone I got you?”

Aziraphale patted his pockets as if he had ever carried it on his person. “Well I'm sure it's somewhere. Nevertheless, we must go and bring plenty of gifts for Anathema, Newt, and Adam. We should probably bring the other children something too so they don't feel left out. And Adam’s parents - they don't know just how good of a job they've done raising Adam. Is there anyone I'm missing?”

“Let's just buy everyone in the whole bloody town a gift.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “Well we should at least make sure we get Adam something good. He is our godson, even if we didn't know it until last summer.” He paused thoughtfully. “Should we get Warlock a gift? I mean, he is the one we actually _raised_.”

“I raised him. You tended to the garden and told him to respect slugs.”

“As well he should!”

“Nasty creatures that eat leaves. Anyway, how do you anticipate that going over? With a card that says ‘Dear Warlock. Happy Christmas from Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis. P.S. Don't be such a shit to your mum. Her life is hard enough as it is.’?”

Aziraphale nodded thoughtfully. “Poor Harriet. I wish we could have done more for her. Yes, I suppose you're right. We could send it anonymously!”

“Nothing like an anonymous gift to the son of an American diplomat to get the secret service going in the morning.”

Aziraphale bristled. “Well I'd like to get him one and I know that despite everything, you were fond enough of the boy. So let me know sooner rather than later if you'd like to contribute.”

Crowley did get him a gift, a paintball gun with a seemingly endless supply of paintballs, and made it miraculously appear below the Dowling’s Christmas tree along with Aziraphale’s gift, a set of teen mystery novels that Crowley was certain Warlock would never look at. Crowley also sent a vibrator in a separate box for Harriet and felt confident signing that one “From Nanny A”.

They wrapped the rest of the gifts, loaded them into the Bentley, and set off for Tadfield. 

They arrived to Jasmine Cottage and Adam ran out to greet them. 

“Hey Aziraphale. Hey Crowley. Why are you wearing a skirt and tights?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Because I want to. Why are you wearing that jacket?”

Adam shrugged. “Mum bought it for me and it's cold out.” 

Crowley handed him several boxes from the trunk. “Be a dear and bring those inside.” He ruffled Adam’s hair and Adam ran inside, Dog at his heels. 

Crowley turned back towards the Bentley and Aziraphale smiled at him. 

“What?”

“You really are good with children.”

Crowley shrugged. “I like them. They haven't learned tact yet.” He picked up more boxes, closed the trunk, and walked towards the house. 

“Coming, angel?” he called over his shoulder. 

Aziraphale carried the trays of baked goods he had spent weeks perfecting into the house. 

They said hello to Newt and Anathema and the rest of the Them as well as formally introduced themselves to Adam’s parents (as old family friends of Anathema’s). The Youngs looked confused as to why their son and his friends knew so many adults but they wouldn't mention it in polite company. 

They ate dinner and pulled Christmas crackers. Aziraphale placed a paper crown on Crowley’s head and beamed. Crowley scowled but wore it throughout dinner after he saw how happy it made Aziraphale. 

They all retired to the living room after dinner to open presents. Aziraphale sat down on a small settee and Crowley joined him with a small tray of dessert and two glasses of wine. 

They leaned against each other, Crowley scratching the nape of his neck with his long nails. Aziraphale shivered, from Crowley’s attention and from the love radiating throughout the room. 

Adam walked over to the biggest present in the pile, almost the size of him. “Whose is this?”

Crowley leaned forward and grinned. “That one's for you, Adam. And you lot--” he gestured to Brian, Pepper, and Wensleydale. “You have companion gifts in the matching wrapping paper.”

He leaned back and watched the children descend on the gifts, a mischievous look on his face. 

“Oh, _what_ did you get these children, Crowley?” Aziraphale groaned. “I got him a lovely book, _The Phantom Tollbooth_. I think he'll really enjoy it. Oh no, Crowley, you didn't.”

Adam ripped the paper off the large box to unveil a full size drum kit. Brian, Pepper, and Wensleydale had opened theirs too - two electric guitars and a bass. Arthur and Deirdre blanched. 

“We don't live in London anymore, Aziraphale, you have to let me cause mayhem where I can,” Crowley whispered. 

Aziraphale sighed and mouthed “sorry” as the Youngs glanced over at them. 

The rest of the evening passed with little fanfare. The Youngs insisted everyone play charades and Crowley and Anathema conveniently disappeared into the kitchen before they could be roped in. Aziraphale participated with too much enthusiasm. 

They left early, blaming the long drive, and said their goodbyes. 

“Now, I want you all to practice a lot. I want to hear proper music by the time we visit again. Make sure to really hone your craft at all hours of the day. Don't let sleep hinder your inspiration,” Crowley instructed. 

The Them nodded sagely. Aziraphale sighed, apologizing again to Arthur and Deirdre, and then entered the Bentley. 

Crowley slid behind the wheel and shut the door. “Well that wasn't too bad.”

“You really are a menace, you know that?”

Crowley grinned. “You love me.”

“Yes, I rather do.”

\----------

Aziraphale sat in their bed after returning from Tadfield, reading by the soft lamplight in the room and waiting for Crowley to join him. The light clicked off in the bathroom and Crowley walked out, face freshly-washed and wearing nothing but his skirt. He sat at the vanity in the corner of the room and Aziraphale closed his book to watch him.

Crowley lifted a small, ovular wooden brush and ran it through his waves, frowning whenever he hit a tangle. Aziraphale watched the planes and angles of his back shift as he moved. His leg rested on the ground as he perched on the bench, the other leg curled up underneath him, and his toes reflexively curled in the soft carpet. The only sounds were the fireplace crackling, the repetitive swoosh of the brush running through hair, and Aziraphale’s own breathing.

The air was heavy, with what Aziraphale couldn’t place. _Love_, always, and maybe thicker tonight than normal. But something else hung in the air and he felt it the longer he allowed himself to just look at Crowley.

Crowley set the brush down and ran his fingers through the ends of his hair, tugging slightly. He turned his head towards Aziraphale, not quite looking at him, and oh, he was beautiful. His profile, as angular and sharp as the rest of him, softened in the firelight and his eyes glowed. 

“Angel?” he whispered.

“Yes, my love,” Aziraphale replied softly.

“Will you braid my hair?”

Aziraphale slipped off the bed and walked slowly over to Crowley. He lifted his hand to Crowley’s forehead and brushed the hair off his face, slipping his fingers in further. 

Crowley hummed and turned back towards the vanity, eyes slipping closed.

Aziraphale moved behind him and sank both hands into Crowley’s hair, feeling the heavy, silky weight against the back of his hands. He felt along every bump and curve of Crowley’s skull, applying gentle pressure as he massaged his scalp. He came up to rub his fingers along his temple, his hairline. He skirted around his ears to the nape of his neck, scratching lightly before digging his thumbs into the base of Crowley’s skull.

Crowley moaned appreciatively and his head fell forward. Aziraphale continued to rub circles along the top of his spine and spread out along his shoulders. Crowley remained pliant under his touch. 

He cupped Crowley’s head and kept it still as he leaned forward to grab the brush and a hair tie sitting on the vanity. He started to pull back but Crowley caught his wrist, pulled it closer and rubbed his nose along the vein. He pressed a soft kiss to the inside of Aziraphale’s wrist and then released his hand, facing forward again.

Aziraphale didn’t know how his heart was so steady yet felt like it was racing.

He ran the brush through Crowley’s hair, carefully inspecting every pass for any knots or tangles. Crowley’s head felt loose and heavy, as if he were relying on Aziraphale’s hand and the gentle pull of the brush to keep him upright. 

Finally Aziraphale was satisfied and tilted Crowley’s head back towards him as he began to segment the hair at his crown into three even sections and began braiding. He slowly gathered strands of hair from the sides to incorporate into the braid as he moved down Crowley’s head. 

He and Crowley had shared many things in their years on Earth. Meals, glances, laughter, friendship, the Arrangement, love for humanity, two godchildren, their worries and anxieties, their bodies, their beds, their _homes_. All of it creating an intimacy too great to explain. Aziraphale felt all of it hit him, now, as he tied off the end of the braid and looked at Crowley’s reflection in the mirror. 

He had never seen Crowley look as peaceful, as _serene_ as he did in this moment. A small, contented smile graced his lips.

Aziraphale’s fingers traced their earlier path along Crowley’s hairline, brushing any stray hairs back with his fingers and tucking them into place. He briefly dipped his fingers into the hair at Crowley’s crown to loosen the braid’s tight grip on his scalp. 

He then cupped his hands along Crowley’s cheekbones, sliding under his jaw to tilt his head back and press a kiss to his forehead. Crowley continued to smile. He pressed another kiss to his forehead, lingering, and another in a different spot, longer. 

Crowley turned around on the bench and sat up on his knees. He lifted his hands and placed them to either side of Aziraphale’s face and _looked_. Aziraphale held his breath, feeling his cheeks warming at Crowley’s touch and gaze. 

Crowley pulled him closer and kissed him. The warm flush spread from Aziraphale’s cheeks all over his body. Crowley continued to hold him still and press kisses to his lips, the side of his mouth, all over his face. He moved lower to kiss the underside of Aziraphale’s jaw, his neck. Quick fingers made work of his bowtie and Crowley pressed a kiss there too. 

Aziraphale pulled him back as Crowley started on his buttons. “Come to bed,” Aziraphale whispered and Crowley nodded. 

Aziraphale walked over to the bed and sat down. Crowley stood up from the bench and, making sure Aziraphale was a rapt audience, pushed his skirt and underwear down his legs until he stood naked. He walked towards Aziraphale, hips swaying, and stood between his legs. Aziraphale began to unbutton his shirt and Crowley took his hands and set them on his waist. 

“Let me.”

Aziraphale sat patiently, tracing patterns into Crowley’s skin and looking up at his face as Crowley unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders. He lifted his arms when Crowley pulled his undershirt off and then pulled Crowley closer, knuckles running over his ribs. He took a nipple into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue. Crowley sighed and began undoing Aziraphale’s trousers, tapping his hips when he needed him to lift, and shimmying them down his legs. 

He pulled the trousers off and then knelt in front of Aziraphale, feeling and gently massaging his legs. 

Aziraphale swallowed. “What do you need, Crowley?”

Crowley looked up at him and smiled. “Let me take care of you for once.”

He didn’t know what to say. He nodded and Crowley pressed a kiss to his knee. He took Aziraphale in hand and set a steady pace, continuing to pepper kisses along his sensitive thighs. Aziraphale’s hands clenched in the comforter and he let out quiet moans.

After a few minutes, Crowley stood up and ushered Aziraphale to the head of the bed. The angel settled against the pillows and Crowley straddled his thigh, holding Aziraphale’s cock and resuming his steady pace. Aziraphale could feel Crowey’s wet heat on his skin.

“Aziraphale.” Aziraphale’s eyes snapped up to Crowley’s. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Oh, my dear. You’re--” Crowley held up his hand. Aziraphale closed his mouth.

“This might get overly sentimental but that hasn’t seemed to stop my big mouth before. I spent so long biting my tongue every time I wanted to tell you all the ways I love you and now that I don’t have to anymore, I feel them pouring out of me every chance I can get.

“Every day I wake up and you’re there to smile at me, to kiss me, to eat with me, to pester me, to make love to me, to _fuck_ me.” He grinned. “You care for me in a way that I never thought I would have and you make me feel like I deserve it. It’s something I’m going to be working on for probably a long time, believing that, but the way you’re looking at me now makes it easy.

“But it’s not just what I deserve. You deserve it too, Aziraphale. Every scrap of love I can pull out of me and then more, so much more. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for being here and choosing me. We are,” and he laughed, “_bloody ineffable_.”

Aziraphale was crying and couldn’t stop. He felt his vision blur and hot tears run down his cheeks. He had no words, no way to fully express his emotions. _Ineffable_, indeed.

He wiped his eyes and pulled Crowley down onto the bed, entangling their legs and kissing Crowley passionately. Crowley continued to stroke his cock until Aziraphale was gasping against Crowley’s chest. 

“Yes, love, please,” and he gave one last twist of his wrist before Aziraphale was spilling over his hand, breath still hiccuping from his tears.

Aziraphale barely gave Crowley enough time to remove his hand before he was grabbed by the waist and dragged over Aziraphale’s face.

“Hey! This is about you! I don’t need--”

“If this is about me, you’ll know how much I enjoy this. Consider it a reward.” Aziraphale gripped Crowley’s thighs and inhaled before running his tongue along Crowley’s slit. Crowley uttered a hiss that turned into a groan. He threaded his fingers with Aziraphale’s.

“A reward for what? You know, not everything has to be about _indulging ourselves_\--oh _yes_, angel. Sometimes we can just be two idiots in love. An angel who loves a demon and a demon who will kill the angel if he ever breathes a w-word--_god, your tongue is perfect_\--to _anyone_ about how he can’t stop professing his bloody love during sex.”

Aziraphale removed his tongue from Crowley’s cunt. “I would never tell anyone about that, Crowley. Those words are mine. You’re mine.” He thrust his tongue back in, nose brushing against Crowley’s clit. 

“Yes, yours. Always, I’ve told you. Keep up, angel.”

Aziraphale stopped and sighed. Crowley whined. “Crowley, do you want to argue or do you want to come? I have one mouth, see, and it can only do so mu--” He was cut off by Crowley grinding his hips down on Aziraphale’s face.

“Answer your question? I know all about what that mouth can do, Aziraphale. Please keep doing it.” 

Aziraphale latched his lips around Crowley’s clit, humming his approval and sucking. Crowley squeezed his thighs around Aziraphale’s head. Aziraphale licked up his inner labia before gathering Crowley’s slick on his tongue and circling his clit again. 

Crowley panted and grabbed at the headboard, shifting the angle so Aziraphale's tongue lay flat across his clit and groaning. He rocked his hips against Aziraphale’s face and Aziraphale reached behind him to slip two fingers in. Crowley gasped and rocked his hips faster, caught between Aziraphale’s fingers and his tongue, licking and sucking at his sensitive clit.

“Yes, yes, yes, keep going.” 

Aziraphale increased the speed, alternating between broad flat licks and hard, focused sucks, and Crowley gave a throaty moan. He brushed up against the sensitive spot inside Crowley’s cunt. Crowley slapped the headboard.

“_Fuck. Yes._” And he came, soaking Aziraphale’s chin and clenching around his fingers. Aziraphale continued to give his clit kitten licks as Crowley came down, reveling in the way Crowley fluttered around him. 

Crowley climbed off Aziraphale and settled down next to him. They held each other in a loose embrace. Aziraphale smiled at him and smoothed down the strands that had come loose from his braid. “You know, you can be quite insufferable, my darling.”

Crowley smiled back. “Good thing you’re the most long-suffering angel who’s ever existed.”

They continued to gaze at each other, offering light strokes and touches. Aziraphale felt like he could live in this moment forever. 

“You look at me like I’m your entire world,” Crowley sighed. 

“You are.”

“To the world?”

Aziraphale smiled in earnest. “To _the world_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sev Goosetooths, one of my favorite GO artists, made [this fanart](https://twitter.com/goosetooths/status/1280636834008227842?s=20) of one of Crowley's outfits and I'm still giddy about it.


End file.
